Granger Danger
by equalsMCsquare
Summary: Hermione Granger is running for Minister for Magic! Everybody gets to make a cameo in this story, since there are lots of big gathering events, so that's really fun. Also, I don't read enough stories where people are just casually queer and it's and it's not their main character trait or plotline? So this story is LGBTQIA /non-monogamy soup!
1. Chapter 1

**/* AUTHOR'S NOTE: the fantastic icon art that I've used for this piece is by lilabeanz . tumblr . com */**

"Harry, could you please—"

"Not here."

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Harry. Just hand me that file. Yes, that green one."

"Fine, but if you can't be trusted to maintain promises _now_ , how can your constituents trust you to follow through after the election?"

Fortunately for Harry, Hermione was preoccupied with the contents of the file now miraculously in her possession - a file that was most certainly _not_ handed to her by a certain Harry Potter, who was definitely not allowed to participate in political campaigns. It was sort of hard to have a reasonable campaign season if the Savior of the Wizarding World backed any candidate, and Harry had simply had enough politicking to last a lifetime.

"Come off it mate, everyone knows Hermione's got the straightest laced, most honest and reasonable campaign since before the first war—"

Ron was cut off by a screech.

"RONALD BILLIUS WEASLEY, did you drop those letters of at the owlery last week or not?"

"Aaaand that would be my cue to exit, I believe! Enjoy your 'reasonable campaign' for the rest of the day, Ron." Harry swiped his coat and scarf off the table and was out the door so quickly Ron could've sworn he'd apparated.

"Lucky bastard," Ron muttered under his breath.

"Ron. The dinner is this weekend, and you didn't send out the invitations! It's our first big campaign event!"

"Er… see, the thing is, 'Mione…"

"Not to worry, not to worry, Hermione, Ron simply outsourced the labor to your mother and myself. I believe Mrs. Granger wanted to see the owlery, and I was on my way that direction anyways."

Ron never thought he'd be so glad for Percy Weasley's interfering. But his older brother had chosen Hermione's campaign as a chance to redeem himself to the family, and his politics and organizational skills were unmatched. Well, closely contested by Hermione herself, but even she had to admit that Percy kept her feet on the ground more often than not.

"Oh. Well, then. Thank you Percy. And good delegating, Ron," Hermione said, somewhat mollified. If she noticed him raising a questioning eyebrow at Percy, she didn't comment. At least it was done. She turned to address the bustling room.

"I just want to take this opportunity to remind folks to update the logs when they've finished something. They are constantly updated in everyone's files, and you can add copies and notes anywhere you want for everyone to see. They're a fantastic donation from Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop and will keep us the well-oiled machine we have become!"

"Oy, 'Mione, I added a memo about changing our campaign slogan to Granger Danger, but some ponce removed it. It's inter-campaign sabotage, I say!"

"The only inter-campaign sabotage was letting the twins do the print media for this campaign."

"Aha! I knew it was you, Perce! What's your campaign role then, eh? Official killer of all things fun and cheerful?"

Having a Weasley clan member on every aspect of the campaign was somewhere between a bonding experience and a highly foolish social experiment, but Hermione had decided that the emotional support was worth the likely cut in efficiency.

"Boys, play nice. Or I'll have Ron send our enforcer after you."

"We have an enforcer? We're _that_ kind of political machine?"

"Yes, and it's me, so you lot better get a move on," said Ginny breezily, waltzing into the room with impeccable timing.

Hermione grinned. Yes, this is exactly how things were supposed to be.


	2. Chapter 2

"Thank you so much for today, Oliver. And Alfie, tell Margie I'll be by next week to see the children. Amelia, please don't fret about coming in tomorrow, though we will miss you. Eleanor and Harriet, thanks again for that draft. Good night everyone!"

Hermione switched off the light and locked the door to the now-empty office. She rubbed her mittened hands together and puffed into the cold air. Her evening ritual of thanking every member of her staff individually always made her feel aglow. Sometimes it was hard to believe how much each of these people believed in her and were willing to do with their volunteered time to see her become Minister of Magic. It felt deeply personal to her and she knew this was what motivated her to do it in the first place.

She trudged through the snowy streets of London. Past the bustling main roads of the wizarding world, in search of a quieter neighborhood. She made the familiar walk down and around the snow topped trees and icy roads. It wasn't that late in the day, but the grey and the snow muted everything around her.

Eventually, Hermione arrived at her destination. Millie's Café was a crossroads between muggle and magic, old-fashioned cozy and modern chic, and served the best warm apple cider and mulled wine.

"So is it an apple cider day, or a wine day today, Hermione?"

"Millie, I believe you extrapolate far too much from my drink orders. It doesn't need to be a wine _day_ for me to want to desire some wine at the end of it."

"…So it's a cider day, then?"

"No, I'll have the wine, thanks." Hermione replied.

She found her favorite armchair in the back corner and summoned her current book from the depths of her expanded handbag. Millie brought the wine over, topped with extra cinnamon just the way she liked it, and Hermione decided there was no place she'd rather be than beside the window of Millie's Café with a book in her lap and both her hands wrapped around a cup of warm wine.

Sometimes Hermione wondered at how it all turned out. Minister of Magic? 20 years ago, she didn't know what magic was. 10 years ago, she'd hated the Ministry with every fiber of her being. Then the war had ended and there was still so much to be done and so little desire to do any of it at all. Harry and Ron were supposed to be aurors, she was supposed to become a healer or professor, Neville a botanist and Ginny a Quidditch champion. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with any of that or that anyone had outright rejected what was expected of them. It's just that day to day life after the war had sort of had a mind of it's own.

Harry started a woodworking business. After the war, he just wanted to build and make in peace; it was supposed to be a temporary hiatus after the war, but he'd never found a good enough reason to stop. It made sense to Hermione. Harry was always quieter and more humble than he was given credit for, and the tangible constructive feel of the woodworking seemed to relax him. He was channeling traits that he had had no time to foster in times of war. Harry was a leader by circumstance and not by choice, and it seemed he was more than happy to disappear a bit.

Ron was apprenticing at Olivander's. The wandmaker was quite old even before the war, and Hermione secretly thought it was borderline irresponsible that the man hadn't chosen a successor to work under him long before. But Ron had a knack for it apparently, and even with Olivander's weakness after the war, Ron was able to fill in the gaps and lend a hand admirably. It was a sort of magic that Hermione felt she could never understand, one that relied far more on gut feel and instinct than book knowledge. 'Letting the wand choose the master' always seemed even more hocus pocus to her than everything else in their world, but it seemed to make sense to Ron.

As for her… what _was_ she doing? After the war, she'd wanted some time to reconnect with her muggle roots. She had spent time with her family, and some old muggle friends from her childhood. There were a few she'd seen whenever she'd gone back on holiday, but of course, that was less frequent as the war progressed. Still, it was a breath of fresh air to be around people who knew her when she was young, when she was 'just' Hermione Granger. At first she was worried all the unknowable history would be too much of an impediment, but she soon realized that the traits that her friends had known and valued in her back in the day were still her traits. They'd all grown and changed.

Muggle life was what had gotten her into politics. Her friends had taken her to some rally in London that she couldn't specifically remember now, but was probably for a good cause, and ever since then she was hooked. The political machinations of muggles intrigued her, and her cynicism from the Ministry over the past decade was eventually eroded. She remembered the feelings that had started SPEW and felt like she had found her calling.

Hermione waded between the wizarding and the muggle world, working with lobbyists and causes on both sides. Eventually, she found herself in a role with the ministry where she helped the two worlds communicate. It was delicate work, but work she was well suited to. After the war, the demand for repaired relations on both sides increased, and Hermione felt the work healing her.

As usual, Hermione's work ethic and passion propelled her upwards through the Ministry. She was overseeing this, running that, delegating here and there, and generally became quite busy. When election season had rolled around again, it actually wasn't much of a surprise for many that she'd declared her candidacy. There was still a lot of work to be done with muggle relations and fixing up the wizarding world itself, and who better than Hermione Granger to spearhead it all?

Hermione realized she'd been lost in thought after she read the same paragraph a third time. She sighed and shut her book with a snap.

"Alright, Granger? Bit melodramatic there, eh?"

She started and turned to see a smirking Draco Malfoy. Some things never change.


	3. Chapter 3

"Heavens, is that _the_ Draco Malfoy? In the flesh?" Hermione quipped.

"I daresay it is. Would you look at that."

Hermione paused. Truth be told, she'd hardly thought about her old school yard rival in the time since they'd, well, left school. She was a little caught off guard at the fact that he was apparently bantering with her, but overall, not entirely displeased. Time can do some miraculous things to a grudge.

"A bit old for simply surnames aren't we, _Malfoy_?"

"Feel free to call me Mr. Malfoy, then. Are you going by Madame Minister yet?"

Hermione actually laughed at that.

"Hardly. But alright, Mr. Malfoy. I will endeavor to call you that without thinking of your father."

Malfoy's smile faltered.

"Well, then there shall be no conflict. As of yesterday, there is only one Mr. Malfoy. My father passed away last night. I've come to town to arrange his funeral."

Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. There might not be any lost love between her and Lucius Malfoy, but that was a far cry from joking to someone about their recently deceased father.

"Oh I'm so sorry. I hadn't heard, I—"

"Please, Granger. I wouldn't have expected you to have heard and even if you did, I wasn't expecting flowers at his reception."

"Yes, well. I am sorry. And if there's anything I can do, let me know."

The corner of Malfoy's lip twitched upwards.

"What?" Hermione asked, now suspicious.

"I know that we say things like that out of politeness, but I wonder what you'd do if I took you up on it?"

"I'd follow through, of course."

"A trait unusual, but befitting a Minister candidate, I'm sure."

Hermione smiled, and tucked her book back into her bag. She knotted her hair into a messy bun and stood up to face Malfoy properly.

"Well, off we go then. There are preparations to make," she replied to his quirked eyebrow.

She waved cheerfully to Millie and strolled purposefully out the door, somehow knowing Malfoy would follow shortly.


	4. Chapter 4

He caught up with her a block from the building. Because, of course, any quicker would not be dignified for his Malfoy-ness, she thought.

"And, pray tell, where are we going?"

"That depends."

Malfoy waited.

"What have you accomplished so far? Have you made a to do list or any plans to accomplish everything?"

"Nothing, and no. My flight just landed a few hours ago, and I—"

"Your what?" Hermione stopped in her tracks.

"My flight? You know, one of those great big bird machines that fly across oceans, often carrying passengers?"

"What would have been wrong with portkeys? And where did you fly from, exactly?"

"From Charlottesville, Virginia. And I wasn't traveling alone, and a portkey would have been inconvenient for my companion."

"Where?"

"Heavens, Granger. I seem to remember you as the clever one when we were in school together. Which of those answers confused you, exactly? I presume you know where Virginia is and how an airplane works."

"Well, I don't know _exactly_ how an airplane—never mind."

Draco grinned.

They walked in silence for a little bit. Hermione wasn't sure if it was awkward or comfortable silence.

She supposed she was probably in a spontaneous sort of mood this evening. Why was Malfoy in her getaway café anyways? And how did she end up imposing herself on his evening? And um, conscripting herself to helping plan Lucius Malfoy's funeral?

But it wasn't all bad, was it? She had known Malfoy since they were 11, and despite the pettiness and snobbery, which he seems to have outgrown, that seemed like reasonable enough basis for lending a helping hand. She'd never thought him truly evil during the war, just sort of weak and misguided, which Harry had basically testified to in the Malfoys' trial. And besides, her curiosity was killing her. Being able to put some energy into something other than her campaign that would make someone's life easier after the passing of their father seemed like a win-win to her.

"You never answered my question," he said after some duration of walking.

"What? Oh, we're going to my campaign headquarters. It's a good place for strategizing."

"Aren't you afraid I'll steal your campaign secrets?"

"They're charmed so you can't do that. My secrecy charms have somewhat improved since Miss Edgecomb in 5th year, if you recall." She added her sweetest smile and was pleased at the subtle shutter it elicited.

"Ah. Yes. Well. Perish the thought, then."

"Anyways, we're here."

She unlocked the door and they walked in.

"It's very…dark."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Yes, we do all our work by wandlight and Hands of Glory, Malfoy."

" _Mr._ Malfoy, thank you."

She flipped on the lights and they stood blinking for a few seconds. It really did get too dark too early in the wintertime.

Draco looked around. It was a fairly large office, clearly decorated by Molly Weasley to look warmer and less bleak than most campaign offices would. Even so, Draco saw tons of stacks of papers, all neatly foldered and organized on the tables. There were books on shelves, mailbox slots in the back, and monitors and posters all over.

He picked up a flyer.

"Granger Danger?"

"We're trying to appeal to the younger demographic, what do you think?"

Hermione laughed out loud at the look of horror on Malfoy's face.

"Only kidding. Fred and George are in charge of print media."

"Ah. Well, in that case I suppose I should just be glad they aren't enchanted to give one a black eye after reading, or shoot fireworks off periodically or some such nonsense."

"Don't be ridiculous. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes would hardly be responsible for something so mundane."

"Are they an official sponsor of your campaign?"

"Naturally."

"Then forgive me if I can't trust your word on their product integrity."

"Very droll, Mr. Malfoy. Don't we have work to do?"

"Yes, Madam Minister, we should really get down to it."


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, just like every one before it for the past several weeks, Hermione woke up, got ready, and went to headquarters.

She walked through the door and took the proffered clipboard from April, the Hogwarts intern.

Harry was part of the program to revamp and modernize the Hogwarts curriculum. Students like Hermione were constantly ahead, none of the students had much real-world experience outside of Dumbledore's Army, and house divisions seemed ridiculous after the war. Hogwarts was special to all of them, but Hermione knew that it was really something more for Harry. He took a special interest in the students outside of their academics as well, helping with first year flying lessons and making a holiday home for the students who couldn't go home during breaks.

"Alright April, fill me in."

"The polls are showing a positive swing in metropolitan areas such as London and Glasgow, but we've plateaued in more rural areas. Interestingly, we're running pretty parallel to the muggle politics around the country, and we reflect comparably to the Labor Party's pollings. We also just got a substantial donation from a fairly popular band in Liverpool, and I think it would be cool to rope them into performing at one of our fundraisers or something. Just a thought. That's about it for now. Do you want a coffee or something?"

Hermione looked at April in amusement.

"Did you take a breath once during that entire speech? You remind me so much of myself early in my Hogwarts career, April, so I warn you against burning out. No, I don't need coffee quite yet, but thank you. Good morning, Ron!"

"Morning Hermione! You're looking lovely this morning." He bent to kiss her cheek.

"I feel quite lovely this morning. I have to tell you about the strangest run in I had last night."

"Oh?"

"Not now though, I think I have a meeting with Percy, and I'll never hear the end of it I'm late. Something about doing a press conference, or maybe an interview? What do you think about that?"

"I'd say it's too early for a press conference, but I think an informal interview would be good at this stage."

"Thanks Ron, I'll try to keep Percy in that line of thought. Could you let me know how Ginny's doing with the finances, and get me a report soon? April mentioned something about a band doing a fundraising concert for us. I feel like Morgan and Bill are probably the people to go to about that, so get that whipped up."

"On it, 'Mione."

Ron was Hermione's right-hand for the campaign. And honestly, probably her left hand as well.

She walked into the meeting room and power walked to the table, dropping a stack of files with a satisfying _thwack_ sound.

"Alright Percy, lay it on me."

"Honestly, Hermione, we're not on House of Cards and you're not Claire Underwood. Must you always have dramatic entrances?" Percy rolled his eyes.

"Sorry Percy, I'm wore my power heels today."

"Understandable."

"We're talking about publicity today?"

"Yes. I want you to do a press conference."

"A solo press conference?"

"Yes, I think it'll get us out in front of the competition."

"And I think it'll make us look aloof and political. What if I just did an interview?"

"With who?"

Hermione paused. Another fantastic change to the post-war wizarding world was the diversification of the press. While there wasn't yet a comparable medium to the internet, Wizards were finding ways to protect their information online and transmit news that way. Unfortunately, it would take time for folks to switch over to that medium, but some theorized this election would popularize it. At least now there were more news sources than the Daily Prophet. Thanks largely to the efforts of Luna Lovegood, the press was now lively and had multiple voices across the country.

"Call Luna and set something up. She'll know which papers are read by our favorable demographic and who could write us well."

"Yes, see, I was hoping to avoid…"

"Percy. You knew you'd have to interact with Luna if you handled media relations. I know you two don't work in the same style, but you'll have to make do. Take one of the twins with you, if you must."

Percy harrumphed and muttered something about "quibbler" before accepting the truth of Hermione's words.

"If that's everything, let me know by this evening who I'll be interviewing with, and try to set it up in the next couple days. Stick it in the common calendar in the files, please and thank you!"

"No problem, Hermione. Oh, don't forget, you owe your mom lunch today, apparently."

"I won't. Thanks Perce."


	6. Chapter 6

The morning flew by, and even part of the afternoon, before Hermione and Mrs. Granger had time to step out for lunch. A decade of mixing her worlds and easing transitions in others' lives, and Hermione had never met someone as resilient and flexible with their reality shifting as her mother. Even when she got her Hogwarts acceptance, Mrs. Granger took it in stride.

Hermione's father was more…average, in his acceptance level. He was just a humble English dentist, and the biggest adventure in his life was marrying his wife, whose more adventurous spirit rejuvenated him every single day. Of course, he was still supportive of Hermione's successes and adventures, but sometimes she felt he met her stories with a smile and a nod to avoid having his world shaken up further.

"Do you think dad will come down to headquarters some time? We could start him with something small, like the memo sheets instead of the owlery?"

"Hermione, the memo sheets self-update. Besides, the owlery is lovely, which is why I asked Percy to come with me to scout it out last week."

Hermione snorted at that.

"Mum, do you really think taking dad to the owlery will be a good idea?"

"He hasn't had a heart attack yet."

"Are you testing the bounds of that statement?"

"I think that was an agreement in our vows, frankly. Your father needs to pull his britches out of a knot and see the adventure out here. Do you think you could take him flying or disappearing with you sometime?"

Hermione was a good combination of her father's groundedness and her mother's high spirits for adventure. Which probably explained a lot about her school year adventures.

"This reminds me mother, I was talking to Headmistress McGonagall about the muggle transitional program for first-year Hogwarts students and their parents. Harry's got loads of stuff prepped for most of the students, but I asked if we could implement this program at a sort of governmental level. I think it could be better done on a larger scale if I win my—"

" _When_ you win your—"

"Yes, when I win the election."

Mrs. Granger thought for a minute.

"Are you looking for something that would work on someone like your father?"

"Come now mum, father isn't so uptight. Some students have a real rough go of it with their parents and I simply feel that the giant cultural barrier is something we should talk about. I mean, you disappear at age 11 for 9 months of the year, into a world where the laws of physics and logic don't work anymore, and you don't think that puts pressure on some families?"

"I see your point. What would you like me to do?"

"Do you think we could organize a little focus group of muggle parents and figure out what their needs are?"

"If you could get the Headmistress on board with that, I'd be delighted to help lead it. And your father would definitely be able to get involved there. I think it could be good for him!"

The conversation went on like this for a while. While she might love her friends and feel at home with the Weasleys, Hermione treasured these candid light moments with her mother. When they put their heads together, things really started to happen. She truly did regret all the years where her mother had to be pushed out of her life. She remembered a particularly hard year when her 13-year-old self didn't have the words to describe things like time turners, and soul-sucking prison guards. It was the time in her life when she had felt the most alone. And she was determined to do something about it for future generations.

They passed the meal comfortably, talking about this and that and everything. After they finished, Hermione took her mother to Fortescue's ice cream parlor. Florean's son, Flemmin, had reopened his father's business after the war and was doing the family name proud.

"Good afternoon, Ladies Granger and Granger. What'll it be today?"

"Hello Flemmin! I think I'll have a scoop of raspberry cheesecake and pistachio, and my mother wants to try to the cockroach cluster-inspired flavor, I believe."

"I most certainly do not. Hope you're well Flemmin, and I'm sorry for turning down what I'm sure is an artful creation, but I'll just have two scoops of chocolate ice cream today."

Instead of scooping their ice cream into cones like a normal human being, Flemmin quickly charmed a pair of scoops to do a jig, and then juggle the scoops of ice cream, before summoning the cones and putting them in. He then snapped his fingers and a stream of sprinkles shot from the back of the parlor onto the cones. Only then did he physically touch the cones and hand them to Hermione and her mother. He snapped again to vanish the mess. He beamed at Mrs. Granger, whose expression fwas stoic.

"Really, Flemmin? Hermione was doing that before she got into Hogwarts. You'll have to do better than that next time."

Flemmin's face fell theatrically and Hermione hid her laughter behind her cone.

"Really, mother. I think Flemmin prepares a new routine for your every visit and you always wheedle the poor man."

Mrs. Granger maintained her expression for another minute or so before breaking into a grin.

"Alright, alright. Tell me, does a specific spell exist for the purpose of juggling ice cream balls?" Her eyes were shining the way Hermione's did at the prospect of new knowledge.

Laughing to herself and knowing her mother and Flemmin would be there for a while, Hermione strolled outside. Which she regretted almost immediately because it was winter in London and she had decided to have ice cream.

She began turning around to go back inside when she bumped into Draco Malfoy. Literally. Or rather, he bumped into her, which made sense since there's no way he could've seen her around the armful of flowers in his arms. Her ice cream fell to the ground into a pile of sludge as she stumbled.

"You know, I think the Weasley twins have made a product that allows you to look around a blocked field of vision. Truly revolutionary for the modern day moving man, and… gardening nut?"

"Sounds like a glorified periscope, which makes sense since Weasleys are notoriously obsessed with muggle technology."

"Ah yes, while you are only fascinated by lofty technology such as planes."

"Yes well, simple minds, simple toys…"

" _Anyways_ , Mr. Malfoy—"

"You know I was kidding about the Mr. Malfoy business, right?"

"— _MISTER MALFOY_ , as I was saying. What are those for?"

"Fine, then I'll call you Granger Danger. And they're for the funeral."

Hermione stared.

"Malfoy, we decided you'd get _some_ flowers. Not buy out the shop."

" _Some_ is such a loose description…"

"You were also supposed to get the flowers last, so they don't wilt before the event."

"Oh, I knew I was forgetting something—"

"If by something, you mean quite literally everything else—"

"Alright, alright Granger Danger, I get it. Forgive me for being a bit absent-minded two days after my father died…"

Hermione looked aghast.

"Oh no, I didn't mean—"

"I'm only joking, Granger, it's fine."

"You're joking about your deceased father?"

"It's a coping mechanism, don't judge me."

"Have you set a date for it yet?"

"For what?"

"For the funeral?"

"Mother decided Saturday. That'll give some more relatives time to come into town and they can spend the night at the manor if they need to."

Hermione wondered how many people would attend the funeral of Lucius Malfoy, but kept that particular question to herself.

"You've got time then. I can owl you a better list of what we discussed last night and then I can help you out on Friday evening if you need anything further."

"Friday night shouldn't be necessary, but a list wouldn't go amiss."

The stood for another moment, awkwardly finished with the conversation but unsure how to end the interaction.

"Well, I best be off then, Granger Danger."

"Take care, Mr. Malfoy."

Hermione finally went back inside, only to discover Flemmin magically juggling every small instrument in the parlor over his head and Mrs. Granger grinning like a very small child at Christmas time.


	7. Chapter 7

Somehow, another couple days flew by, and then it was time for weekly dinner with Ron and Harry. The friends had wanted a reasonable amount of space to develop their own lives after the war, and had settled on once a week dinner for the purpose of touching base. Now that they were older and more comfortable with their independent lives and how they interacted, the tradition had continued. Tonight was stir-fry night, and Harry was hosting.

"Harry, did you end up landing that large commission piece for that Iranian potions master?"

"Yeah, actually I did. It was sort of a tough sell since he wanted me to prove I could incorporate some Middle Eastern cultural symbols and designs into the piece. But I made him some demo pieces that he loved, and that was that. He wants it for New Years, so that probably means I can't take on any more projects for the next few weeks."

Hermione went to the fridge to look for a drink.

"Harry, do you only drink blonde beers?"

"Sorry, 'Mione, I think there's some Guiness or a stout of some sort somewhere in the back. Could you get me a blonde though?"

"Grab me one of those stouts if you find one, love."

"'Love' is it? Whenever you want something Ronald, dear," Hermione noted as she popped open the bottles.

"You're always my love, but a gentle reminder, occasionally—"

Hermione swatted Ron and they all cracked up. They drifted into a comfortable silence, leaning on the counters, sipping their beers and enjoying the lovely smells wafting from Harry's frying pan and listening to the Bavarian Bards.

"Are we really almost 30? I feel like we're still at Hogwarts," Harry said quietly, shaking his head.

"Don't say almost 30, Harry, that makes the situation sound much more dire than it is."

"Mate, sometimes I wake up and think I slept through my potions exam. Some stuff you don't outgrow."

"Really? Your most memorable and traumatizing moments from our teenage years were the exams? Honestly, Ronald. That's the part I miss the most!"

"'Course, cause you're Hermione Granger and I'm Ron Weasley."

"Harry, tell Ron he's being ridiculous."

"Ron, you're being ridiculous."

"Thank you—"

"Trelawaney's class was way more of a waking nightmare than potions."

"Harry! …wait, no, I don't disagree with you."

"Thank you, Harry. I wonder what old Trelawaney's up to these days. Strange bat, that one. Let's hope she didn't actually make any more legitimate prophecies. I think I had a lifetime's worth… per prophecy…"

"I wonder if she saw Harry's prosperous future in woodworking."

"Probably not. Ron's expertise in wand work, though. Should've seen that miles away."

"Yeah, I—hey. Are you making a joke? Hermione, did Harry just make fun of me in some way."

"Woodworking and wand work. Nope, I see absolutely no joke possibly being made here."

"Uhm…"

Hermione set the table as Harry wrapped up the stir-fry with sesame seeds and peanuts. Ron belatedly tossed the dessert pudding that Molly had made for them into the freezer, hoping it would chill before they were done eating. They were silent for a while as they indulged in the food. Ron in particular always looked ravenous for the first few bites of any meal.

"Since Harry brought it up, how's it going in that department for you lot?"

"Mmm. Vix and I have been talking about her moving in with me."

"Really? Ron, that's wonderful! And a huge step, but it seems about time for you two. I mean, she is practically living with you now."

"That's what we figured. But you know. Practically living together and actually living together is different. You don't actually have a different place to be if you do want space, so I don't know. Mum probably won't approve but she handled Fleur and everybody else, so I'm sure she'll be ok with this."

"Honestly, that woman raised Fred and George, you have to give her more credit for adaptability."

Ron grinned at that.

"You're absolutely right. Vix is beautiful and clever and compassionate loved by every Weasley in a 100 km radius of her. Plus, I assume that living together means never sleeping or showering alone again, so I'm sold."

"Ugh, please Ron, I'm eating. What about you, Harry?"

"I'm formally giving up faith in the gay wizarding community?"

"Oh come now, surely it isn't that bad?"

"Trust me. It is. Dean and Seamus are so lucky that it worked out the way it did for them."

"How do you figure that?"

"Don't get me wrong, there is plenty of dancing, partying, and sex with really beautiful men to be had. But most gay men treat settling down in any sense like it's an STD to avoid catching from any given partner. It sort of wears on you after a time, you know? I'm not saying I'm trying to get married, but a few dates? Maybe a relationship, if we're getting real ambitious?"

"Maybe you could try the muggle world?"

"See, I've thought about doing that. New dating pool. But I just can't imagine ever getting into a serious relationship with someone who doesn't know our history and wars and such… it's perfectly fine for casual stuff. The scene in muggle London is definitely better, but I don't know. Maybe I need a year in Italy or something to scout out a new wizarding batch."

"That sounds like a great idea actually. Take 'Mione with you. The only eligible bachelor she's seen recently has been… Percy," Ron shuddered.

"I resent that. I get out and about plenty, thank you."

"Yeah? Do tell."

"Ginny and I went to this club last Saturday night. You know, the new one near Knockturn Alley?"

"Hermione? When you tell this story, kindly leave out my sister's adventures from the night, will you?"

"Sure, Ron. Though Ginny is a grown woman and I don't know what your problem is. You've been stressing about her interaction with men since we were 12, and women since we were 17. She's got her head on straight, even if nothing else about her is, and you might as well get used to that."

"Ugh, Hermione…"

"Ok, ok, fine. Anyways, went to club, met a lovely someone, chatted and had a good time, and went home with him."

Harry laughed as Ron goggled at her. Then he turned to Harry.

"Honestly mate, at what age was it that Hermione started going to parties and going home with 'lovely' men, and we're sitting at home all boring like?"

"I think that started around when we were 23, Ron. Just an estimation. But anyways Hermione, tell us all the sordid details."

"I… don't even remember his name—"

Ron made a sound like a deflated balloon.

"Honestly, Ron…"


	8. Chapter 8

By the time Hermione left Harry's place, it was late. Even though she saw Ron almost daily at headquarters, and Harry stopped in almost every other day, they'd learned that proper catching up never really happened unless they sat down and carved out time. It made her feel good. Like some things really wouldn't change. After the adolescence that they had, Hermione know that all three of them were secretly thrilled about their hum drum lives, complain as they might.

They were going to grow old together. That thought made Hermione warm inside. They'd helped each other through so much healing and coping after the war, and now it's just staying on top of the changes in love lives and idle gossip about Weasley siblings getting married and having children and Neville and Luna's incredibly successful lives… If this was what nearing middle age felt like, Hermione was into it.

Hermione could've apparated home in a second, but something about tonight felt like a long walk kind of night. The air was crisp, and the walk from Harry's to her place was relatively safe and quiet. Hermione started humming as she walked, without even noticing it.

Was Ron right? Was she growing out of her frivolous lifestyle? If even Ron was apparently getting serious with Vix, maybe it's time she figured stuff out. Harry would be ok. Something about Harry always struck her independent. Maybe he could get a cat. Hermione still missed Crookshanks all the time, and he was a fantastic companion for most of her adult life. He had been thinking about adopting Teddy formally, but didn't want to step on Andromeda's toes for as long as she was able to take care of him. But he didn't seem like he really needed a serious relationship. He seemed happy and fulfilled with friendship, and hadn't outgrown his love of long private brooding. Everyone bears their scars differently, and Hermione had a feeling Harry would never quite find his match in the world, or really feel that distinctive draw of romantic love. But that was ok.

Ginny was still going strong with the partying and casual relationships life. She had really found her place in the LGBT community of London and navigated that world and the unconventional relationships of a young, attractive bisexual woman. As for Hermione, she just wasn't sure. Sometimes she felt the draw of something more conventional. Sometimes she just couldn't picture working her life around a single person and wanting them beside her for all of life's adventures. Sure, occasional companionship and romance has historically always been enjoyable. But something about it didn't quite sit right with her.

She finally reached her front steps. Puffing air and fumbling for her keys with icy fingers, she finally walked into her warm townhome.

There was an owl waiting for her with a letter inside.

"Oh! Poor dear. I guess you were instructed to wait for a reply."

She fed the bird an owl treat and untied the note from its leg.

 _Going barmy. Tomorrow night still open?_


	9. Chapter 9

Hermione arrived in front of Malfoy manor at 5:45pm on Friday night. She walked up the long path from the main road to the looming gates. Suddenly, she was 17 again and she felt a tightening in her chest. She thought that she'd worked out all her triggers and sifted through her memories in a pensieve for things like this, but there's nothing like reality. Malfoy was walking towards the gate and seeing her helped her breathing even out. That was then, this is now. The Malfoy she'd been bantering with this past week wasn't the one in the manor all those years ago, and that itself showed how far behind them it all was.

"Wotcher, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco looked at her strangely.

"Wotcher? Really?"

"Sorry. Reminder of an old friend, so sometimes Harry, Ron and I say it to each other."

"Ah. That old friend wouldn't be related to Andromeda Black would she?"

Hermione turned in surprise.

"Yes, actually but how— oh, right. That's right, Tonks was your cousin, wasn't she?"

"If by Tonks, you mean Nymphadora, then yes. I didn't know she said 'wotcher,' but I've heard my mother mention that Andromeda used to say it jokingly. I've never met either of them."

"You should. Andromeda is lovely."

Draco had a funny expression on his face as he opened the front door.

"Mother isn't home. I could show you around."

"I think I've seen most of it."

Draco was silent for a moment. Then he cleared his throat.

"Mother has spent the better part of the past decade erasing the stain of those years from this house. Please, it would be a pity if the only person I've invited here since then were to not see the changes."

Hermione hesitated, but how could she decline that offer?

"Good. We can start with the dining room, then make our way upstairs, then all the way down and to the grounds. It'll help us with planning tomorrow's events."

Even as they strolled to the back, Hermione realized Malfoy was right. The giant manor house had been completely repurposed. If anyone had told her that cheery colors had been put over the grim décor of the Malfoy manor, she would've been nauseatingly reminded of Umbridge. But it was more than that.

"Mother realized the dining room was the worst of it all. We've taken out most of the walls on this floor. Hardwood flooring and modern light fixtures, lots of windows all around, which is apparently a very current muggle fashion for large homes."

Hermione looked around and realized that the space that she remembered as a torture chamber, with medieval chandeliers and banquet tables was gone. It really did look like a model home from the magazines her mother liked so much.

She realized she was gawking when Malfoy cleared his throat behind her.

"I'd really like for you to see the basement next. I would understand if you aren't comfortable with that yet."

"The dungeons?"

Malfoy was silent.

Hermione thought for another moment.

"Could we see everything else first, and do that last?"

Malfoy nodded and they went upstairs.

Even the banisters and carpeting on the stairs had been redone. And the artwork on the walls was cheery and nondescript modern art, instead of grim portraits. Hermione let out a low whistle.

"I know of another place that could really use your mother's touch, if she was interested," Hermione said, thinking of Grimmauld place.

"A project like that could be good for her right now. I fear her grief is suffocating her this week. I practically had to drag her to the Parkinsons' tonight so she could get out of her own head and our space while we prepared. Alright here are the rooms. The bathrooms."

Again, Hermione found herself floored. The bathrooms were combinations of tile and pastel colored mosaics. The sinks were marble with golden and bejeweled faucets. It spoke to Malfoy wealth and propriety in a way that the gloom and doom never had.

The bedrooms were individually done with four poster beds and matching curtains. Fairly simply, but efficient furniture indicated they were guest rooms. Hermione guessed the two doors were the rooms where the current Malfoy inhabitants actually resided.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy. I'm speechless. I can't wait to see the grounds."

"Well, Granger Danger, I'm glad you said that."

They walked down the stairs and to the back.

"You know that Granger Danger sounds exceptionally ridiculous, right?"

"Mr. Malfoy is pretty bad too. Go big or go home?"

"No."

"Never tickle a sleeping dragon?"

"No—what?"

"It's the Hogwarts motto."

"Yes, of course I know that, as would anyone who's read—"

" _Hogwarts a History_? And I always that I was the only one."

Hermione laughed.

"These are the grounds of Malfoy manor."

Malfoy muttered a spell, and a bunch of twinkling lights lit up through the gardens.

Hermione blinked.

"Alright, I'm confused. The size of these gardens looks about right, but not their contents. What…"

"It's a community garden," Draco said quickly, like he was getting some secret off his chest.

"Father started getting into gardening after the war. He was a wreck. Nervous and agitated all the time. It was one of the reasons I left home; we were making each other worse all the time.

"But after I left, mother was able to help him channel that in productive ways. She leveled the garden and did all the set up of mulch and soil, before handing it over to my father. Something she remembered from their youth about him having a green thumb or something.

"People started joining him. It was a slow thing. People in the area. Guests when they visited my mother. I wasn't there, but apparently it helped heal a lot of people. Father never connected with people as well after the war, I always felt like he had just become tired with it all. But this was a nice garden."

"Your mother sounds like she's really something."

Draco grinned at that.

"She sort of put everyone back together after the war, with or without their consent. Well, everyone from our side."

Hermione was silent. She'd never thought about it too much, but she supposed it made sense. All the Pansy Parkinsons, and the Goyle family, and all the rest. They needing putting back together as well, but of course they didn't do it in the same ways or places that she and her friends knew.

She turned to Draco.

"Alright, what's in the dungeons?"

"I thought you'd never ask."


	10. Chapter 10

"It's a… no, I have no idea." Hermione asked, exceptionally confused.

"Alright. Promise to not laugh too much, mother has been keeping it somewhat quiet in the wizarding community because she's got some notion that it isn't very dignified. But it's an arts center."

"What?" Hermione was even more confused now.

"Look, we had a lot of space and money, and no way to reintegrate in wizarding Britain. Father turned into a somewhat sickly gardener, and mother became a community servant. There's a town around the manor. Which makes sense, right? Back in the day, this would have been the house of the local nobility with the village they served around them. Mother decided to go back to our roots."

"It's a center for the village to use? In your actual house?"

"Well, the dungeons are fairly not attached to the house, and accessible from the outside. It actually makes sense to turn them into something other than an extension of our home. And with only 2 people living here…"

"I get it. I just… I can't believe there's a dance studio, arts and crafts studio, and a piano in the place where…"

They were quiet for a bit.

"This is absolutely absurd, Malfoy. It was easy for me to believe that you left to reinvent yourself, and that your father didn't recover from the war, but to learn that somehow both of your parents became community servants, and the Malfoy manor is a modernized community center? It's barely plausible."

Malfoy thought for a while before answering.

"The Blacks and Malfoys have survived for centuries by choosing the winning side. And throwing ourselves violently behind them. I don't believe for a second that families are entirely dark or light wizards; look at my mother and her sisters. But there's nothing more Slytherin than being adaptive. We chose wrong. We volunteered our children and our homes to wrong. Is it so hard to believe that we're now ready to open our homes again and hope that we pick better this time?"

Hermione had nothing to say to that.

"Alright. Let's go back to the dining room and attempt to plan this mess of an event out for tomorrow."

It was growing quite late when Hermione and Draco were done with written plans for the funeral. Draco and his mother had thankfully done all the things that needed foresight, like informing friends and family, and reserving a plot and someone to orchestrate the ceremony. It was just a matter of logistics now, with arrangements of guests' lodging, things like flowers and seating in the house, and a few other matters. Some tidy spellwork and the house was prepared for guests. Hermione suspected this could have all been done without her, but she recognized that she might be performing more emotional support than doing very much tangible for the event. Draco seemed to want to be seen, both for himself and his parents.

He had changed, that much was true. And from what Hermione knew from Harry, she believed that Narcissa Malfoy could do this about face to save her family. It was a lot to take in, but she and Harry at least had decided a long time ago that holding grudges was only letting the war take more from them and the world than it already had. If the Malfoys really were putting in the legwork, and they certainly seemed to be, who was she to stand in their way.

"I'll show you out, then."

As they walked out, Hermione decided to ask the question that was burning a hole in her.

"Do you miss him?"

Draco hesitated.

"I had the misfortune of seeing my father at his worst for most of my life. My mother was able to forgive him and remember who he really was, but I wasn't. I feel…regret. And with that there's sadness. But no, I don't miss him. Goodnight, Hermione."

Hermione had apparated home before she realized he had called her by her first name.


	11. Chapter 11

Saturday morning. Hermione Granger woke up in her town house like any normal weekend morning. Stayed in her pajamas and had a cup of coffee to shake off the late night she'd had with Malfoy last night… woah, there's a sentence she never thought she'd think.

She couldn't shake the feeling that she was forgetting something…

Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

On her front steps stood a Weasley trio.

She thought Percy's eyes would bug out of his head when he saw her, and she pulled her robe tighter. But she should've known better; nothing shakes Percy except for his job, and that was what was appalling him at this moment.

"Hermione!"

"Percy!"

"Hermione!"

"Percy?"

"Fred!"

"Ginny!"

"Yes, thank you for that, Fred and Ginny. What is going on?"

Ginny snorted, and pushed past her brothers and into Hermione's house.

"Careful there 'Mione, I think you're giving Percy a heart attack."

"Yes, brother dear, I don't believe that shade of puce suits you very well."

With a sinking feeling Hermione realized that she definitely had forgotten something today. She _accio_ 'd her calendar, and cursed.

The first fundraising dinner.

The dinner she had scolded Ron for not sending out the invites for.

She bolted upstairs leaving two laughing and one very stressed Weasley in her foyer.

One hour later, and Hermione was as presentable as anyone planning to promote their political campaign for financial support should be. Tight bun, vaguely sexy but mostly professional dress, dark lipstick. She'd spelled away any frizz and blemishes for added effect and tried to make sure her tights didn't have any visible runs in them. Power heels? Power heels.

"See Percy? It's not so bad. Even Hermione Granger can't be on time and on top of everything 100% of the time, and we're only slightly late for preparations now. We've budgeted time for someone to be late to the prep stuff today… though I will say, I did not expect it to be Hermione…"

"Yes, thank you Fred. How are we getting there?"

"Enchanted car."

"Broomsticks."

"Not in this outfit."

"Apparating it is then. Does everyone know how to get there? It's the Muggle hotel by St. Mungoes, so just apparate to Mungoes apparation point and we can walk from there."

And in four loud cracks, they were gone.


	12. Chapter 12

"Dad! You're here!"

Mr. Granger was grinning in a way that only a proud dentist could and Hermione hugged him enthusiastically.

"Of course. I couldn't exactly miss my daughter's launch to the top of her universe could I?"

"Hello mum, congrats on getting yourself and dad dressed in a lovely matching fashion." Hermione kissed her mother on the cheek.

"Hey! I can dress myself, thank you very much young lady."

The Grangers laughed and proceeded inside, with Percy, Fred, and Ginny in tow.

"Harry! You know you can't—"

"I know, I know 'Mione. I just wanted to wish you luck. It sounds quite like fun, just some mingling and crowd pleasing, which I know you'll knock out of the park."

"What park?" asked Ginny.

"Nevermind," laughed Hermione as she kissed Harry on the cheek.

"Well, I am happy to see you. I had sort of a nonstarter this morning, and we're going to need all wands on deck here to set up the chairs and stage and such."

"Er, nix the wands if possible Hermione. The manager of the hotel insists on supervising the event with some of his staff members, and I don't think you want to start your campaign off with a bunch of obliviations of the muggles who are hosting us."

Hermione groaned. She had wanted to do a launch at a nice muggle hotel ballroom as part of a statement that spoke for her platform, and Bill, her unofficial event planner, had assured her that this place would be easy for wizards to find. That said, she was forcibly reminded of the quidditch world cup in her fourth year, where muggle protection measures for a wizard gathering were extravagant.

"Ok. We are already behind schedule and we nee to physically set everything up. I really need everyone moving stuff and being as coordinated as possible. Bill?"

"Yeah, Hermione?"

Bill was always the epitome of cool, still in his dragonhide jacket and long hair and dangling earring. How he and Percy came from the same background was beyond everybody…

"Can you and Fleur handle the directing for the decorations? I know you're only around on weekends and I hate overworking you the moment I see you, but I don't trust anyone else with event vision."

"Not a problem Hermione. You should start working on your speech with Percy and Ron if you can. The rest of us have this under control."

Hermione took a deep breath. She smiled. Of course they did. She trusted them almost more than she trusted herself.

"Alright. Ron and Percy, let's set up on the stage and start rehearsing. Where's April?"

"Here!"

"April could you make sure our press contacts will all be here, and—"

" _Hermione_. We've got it. Just practice your speech and get ready to greet people in a few hours!"

"Ok. Ok ok ok."


	13. Chapter 13

Almost exactly at 6pm, Hermione heard unmistakeable cracks of apparition down the road. Ron had cast muffliato to the best of his ability between them and the muggle residents of the hotel. Thankfully, someone had had the idea to have Fleur 'reason' with the manager of the hotel to afford them some privacy at least for the event, and now they wouldn't have to worry about non magical persons in the events. Hermione had explicitly made her event open to all magical creatures with an interest. She didn't really expect any centaurs or goblins this early on in her campaign, but maybe a house elf or two who had been influenced by Dobby would be in attendance.

She stood at the entrance along with Ron and Percy, and plastered a smile onto her face that she didn't intend to drop until she went home for the night.

"Minister Maudlin, Muggle Artifacts. Wife, Bertha," muttered Percy into her ear. Literally. Fred had specially crafted an extendable ear-esque device specifically so she could access Percy's vast library of Ministry knowledge without memorizing it herself.

"Minister! It's so good to see you. Arthur Weasley has been expecting you and speaks so highly of you. I'm glad you and Bertha could make it tonight!"

"Of course, young lady. How lovely to see a young and vibrant minister candidate with a priority for muggle relations. Yes, yes… very good indeed…"

Hermione was forcibly reminded of Dumbledore, if the old man had been slightly more doddering. She choked down the wave of emotion that came with that thought. He would have been proud of her tonight.

"Minister of treasure. Morgan, from finance. I think that… is an Unspeakable... Jakob, I believe. Tom and Dominique, from the French relations department. Marta from Kingsley's current staff, oh that's good news… Hagrid from-"

"Hagrid!" Hermione and Ron hugged their large bearded friend, appearances be damned.

"Didn't think I'd miss this, didja? Brightest witch of her age, didn't Dumbledore 'n' I always say, our Hermione? Eh, Ron?"

"You've never been wrong before Hagrid," Ron beamed and Hermione felt herself color.

"Hagrid, you have to meet my parents. They're over there, the nervous looking muggles. Oh looks like they've been cornered by Tom from The Three Broomsticks… Hmm, maybe they need some rescuing…"

"Of course 'Mione. Good luck then, eh?"

"Thanks, Hagrid."

Hermione really didn't mind the politicking as much as she had thought she would. Things felt less fake and greasy than anticipated. Her platform was written from the morals she'd had since the middle of their years at Hogwarts, welded during wartime and by her mother's open-hearted acceptance of difference. People believed in that, and she believed in those people, and it was always good to interact with them.

And with all of her friends behind her, she was on top of the world at this very moment.


	14. Chapter 14

The evening sped onward. Hermione missed Harry conspicuously at several points. He had a grounding charisma that he underestimated. She wished she could tag out for a bit. Finally, it was time for her speech.

"Bloody hell, Hermione. No one in the wizarding world has ever prepared for anything as well as you did when you were 11. For anything. Ever. You've got this. Now go!"

"Was that supposed to be a pep talk, Ron?"

No matter, Arthur Weasley was done presenting her, and the round of applause that was her cue to walk across the stage began.

 _Step, step, step, you look fantastic in these heels. Almost at the podium_. _Turn, smile. Pause._

 _And begin._

To an enthusiastic amount of applause, Hermione exited the stage. Her speech had gone over magnificently, and she had even answered a few questions in her stride, never breaking composure, even after leaving the stage. Percy was speaking now, instructing the crowd about contacting the campaign office and with instructions on how to donate to the campaign. He gave her some rah-rah that she couldn't modestly say about herself, and the audience applauded politely in response.

She stationed herself at the door, this time with her parents beside her, as per Percy's instructions, and began bidding people farewell as they left. Some people stayed and mingled, but mostly Hermione allowed her team to do most of the mingling and decided the goodbyes and thank yous were most important.

"Yes, thank you for your support Minister Adams. I hope you enjoyed yourself Madam Secretary. Thank you, Mister Fischer."

And so it went. Some folks stopped to chat excitedly, but most just left with a smile. Hermione began to feel nervous about the overall impression of the night. Were people just being polite? Would the donations come in? Would there be returners and new volunteers?

Eventually, very few people outside of her staff, friends, and family remained.

"Hermione, dear. Go get yourself a drink. Your mother and I can handle the goodbyes and thank yous. We'll direct anyone over if they want to speak to you specifically."

Hermione shot her father a grateful look and headed over to the punch bowl.

She took a deep breath and took a sip.

"Ve alvays knew you'd do something amazing, Hermione Granger."

Hermione almost choked on her punch. She spun around. The accent was distinctive, even if he had learned to pronounce her name in the names since. It could only be—

"Viktor!" Hermione gasped.

"In ze flesh." He grinned back.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well, I'm retired nov. Thought I vould do some traveling, zee some old friends. Vhen I heard you were running for the British Minister of Magic, I knew I had to see you now, or I'd never be important enough again."

"Don't be ridiculous! It is so nice to see you after so many years, and I'd always have time for this. What did you think of the event tonight?"

"I thought you vere amazing."

Hermione faltered for a moment. His candor was refreshing.

"Viktor, thank you, I—"

"Hermione!"

"Yes, Ron? Sorry, Viktor, we have to disassemble this event. I'm pretty exhausted so I'm probably going to head home after this."

"Of course, I understand."

"But… how long are you staying in London?"

"As long as I vant, Hermione."

Hermione smiled at the way he said her name. Her-my-own-ee. Like he was pronouncing every sound in it. Suddenly she was 15 again.

"Viktor, please, let's catch up some time. I'd love to show you around the city, and to the campaign office. And I'm sure Ron and Harry would love to see you again too! Won't you come over and say hello?"

"Er, not at ze moment Hermione. I don't vant to intrude on a night vhere you should be celebrating with family and friends."

"But—"

"I vill send you an owl post? See you soon, Hermione."

Ron called her name again, and Viktor turned and left with a small smile.

"Who was that, 'Mione? He was the last one here. Don't tell me you've got an admirer. Figures that even politics would be good for your romantic life…"

"Oh Ron, please."

"Yeah, Ron, just because Hermione is a sweet catch and you're not doesn't mean you have to be so visibly mopey about it."

Ron stuck his tongue out at his younger sister.

"Ah, yes, the famous Ron Weasley charm. Where is Vix tonight anyways? Has she finally grown tired of being seen in public with you?"

"Haha, Ginny. For your information, she has the night shift tonight at St. Mungoes. I was actually going to bring her a coffee as we left here tonight."

Hermione left the two siblings to their bantering. She would tell Ron about Krum some other time. Everyone was exhausted tonight, and surely a brief run in was hardly newsworthy.

"Hermione, we're so proud of you, sweetheart."

Hugs from all four of her parents – two Grangers, two Weasleys – and Hermione felt herself welling up with emotion.

"Thanks guys. I can't believe we're actually off the ground."

"Yes dear. The four of us are going to be heading home. Arthur and I plan to side-along your parents to their place, before heading back to the Burrow. Do come by some time, won't you? It's been too long."

"Of course Mrs. Weasley. Good night, and thank you all for everything."

"Percy, April—thank you both for everything. Now, before I forget, I have a free day tomorrow, don't I?"

"Yes, you actually do."

"Good! That means the two of you do as well. Please. Sleep in and relax, if either of you knows how. I'll see you on Monday and I expect to see you two looking like you've been on vacation. That's an order!"

Hermione saw everyone off for the night, before giving the room a final magical cleaning, and turning in the ballroom key to the hotel front desk. She removed her heels before walking outside, finally letting her smile and posture slip. She walked to the St. Mungoes apparation point, and was fast asleep in her bed 7 minutes later.


End file.
